The Case of the Ring of Innocence
by MaryChristmas
Summary: complete I've changed the rating to PG-13. Holmes and Beth Lestrade must go undercover to uncover a black market scandal. Yes it's SH22, and yes it's a cartoon...but right now there's no section for it and it IS Sherlock Holmes
1. Chapter 1

**The Case of the Ring of Innocence**

  
  
  
  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century...though I wish I did...but anyway...the only thing I do own is the plot idea...  
  
**Summary:** When a young woman is found dead in the Thames, it was proclaimed an accident. However, her husband insists that it was not. What will happen when Sherlock Holmes and Inspector Lestrade get caught up in a black market scandal that threatens both their lives, and Lestrade's job? Read to find out.  
  
**A/N:** Um...this is the first R rated fic I have ever written. It may not actually be that bad, but I feel that the subject matter demands it. There will be explicit scenes of violence, though no adult language, and not at first. You have been forewarned.  
  
  
  
_It always amazes me the lengths people will go just to make a few creds. Murder and theft are just a few. But this case was perhaps the most monstrous I have ever experienced._  
  
**Prologue:**  
  
The young woman walked slowly along the streets of New London, contemplating what she had just done. Was it really worth a million creds? Was it worth it, to have to feel this pain, like her heart had been ripped from her chest and stomped on? She choked back a sob. She couldn't do it. She just couldn't do it. Sure she already had the money, but she hadn't spent it yet. She could take it back. She could swallow her pride and ask her family for the money she needed. They would understand, and even if they didn't...it would be better than what she had done.  
  
So resolved, she turned around and started walking back to the nondescript building she had just left.  
  
  
**Chapter One**  
  
Sherlock Holmes sat in his customary chair by the fireplace, staring into its depths, bored out of his mind. It had been weeks since Moriarty had shown any signs of activity, and the rest of the city's criminal population seemed to be on hold. Watson and the Irregulars had all gone to one of Wiggins' boxing matches, leaving Holmes to fend for himself. He could have gone, but the possibility of a case coming while he was gone was too great. Now, he wondered if it had been merely wishful thinking, something he tried never to indulge in.  
  
The sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs outside interrupted these thoughts, and he sat up quickly, staring at the door. His lips curved into a slight grin. Perhaps his time hadn't been wasted after all. He affected a casual pose when the visitor knocked on the door. He granted permission to enter with a bored tone to his voice.  
  
The young man who walked in couldn't have been more than twenty-five years old. He had coal black hair that was swept back in the latest style, with a lock of it falling forward into icy blue eyes. He had an aristocratic nose that had at one point been broken, judging by the slight twist to it. Though the man's clothes proclaimed him to be wealthy, the large calluses on his hands showed that he must have worked very hard over the years to get that money, had stolen the suit, or had spent what little money he did have to buy the suit for interviews such as this. Holmes needed more facts before he could make that judgement.  
  
"Well, if you need my help, please speak up sir, I am a very busy man," Holmes stated nonchalantly.  
  
The young man blinked and then sneered. "I'm sure you are Mister Holmes. You're just like all the rest. Well, if you don't need my business then I'll go elsewhere." He turned and walked towards the door.  
  
"I see that your years of working for other people and not getting what you deserved has left you bitter, Mister..."  
  
"Stanhope, Derrick Stanhope," he said turning back around, "And what makes you think that's why I'm bitter?"  
  
Holmes raised an eyebrow. "It is so simple I am rather embarrassed to say it. But if you must know, the suit you are wearing does not go with the calluses on your hands, nor with the broken nose that someone with money would have been able to fix. Now, either you had stolen it," he held up his hand when Stanhope started to protest, "or you had bought it with what little money you had saved up. Judging from your earlier statement I concluded that it was the latter."  
  
Stanhope's eyes widened as he looked at the detective. He shook his head, and a small smile twitched across his lips. "I see they weren't exagerating about you, Holmes." He started pacing in front of the door. "Did you hear about the boating accident on the Thames?"  
  
Holmes nodded. "Such a tragic accident, that young lady was not much older than one of my Irregulars. Only twenty I believe. So young to lose one's life. She was your wife?"  
  
"It was no accident Mister Holmes," Stanhope insisted as he stopped pacing. He looked at Holmes with conviction in his eyes. "Yes, she was my wife, and I know it wasn't an accident. Elaine was terrified of the water. She wouldn't even take a bath, it had to be a shower. Somebody put her on that boat against her will Mister Holmes."  
  
Holmes raised an eyebrow. That was believable if Elaine Stanhope really was afraid of water. However, there was one question that needed to be asked. "Why would somebody want to murder your wife Mister Stanhope?"  
  
Instead of the puzzled anger Holmes was expecting, the young man looked down at the ground, avoiding his eyes. "I don't know...I just want to find out who these people are...and get them in jail."  
  
Holmes frowned. "Why didn't you go to New Scotland Yard with this?"  
  
Stanhope looked up with a slight sneer. "They wouldn't have believed me. I'll see you later Mister Holmes." He turned and walked out the door.  
  
"Well," Holmes said to the empty room, "This looks to be a most interesting case."   
  
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	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**  
  
Beth Lestrade marched down the corridors of New Scotland Yard, her stride sure and steady, hiding the tumult she was feeling inside. However, it would be put to rights with this visit to an old friend with information that might be considered evidence for a case he was working on. She felt her lips curve into a vindictive smile. It was for moments like this that she loved this job. That incredible sense of accomplishment when you _knew_ you had something to go on.  
  
Her purposeful stride soon brought her before the office she wanted. James Gregson's. She knocked, and without waiting for an answer, walked inside. And almost walked right back out. The place was filthy, with papers and electronic devices laying everywhere, not to mention the empty food containers. That wasn't as bad as the smell, though, that someone had tried to mask with an air-freshener, which obviously wasn't working.  
  
The man she was looking for hadn't even noticed her knock or her entrance, he was so entranced in the data pad in his hands. Then he threw it down with an angry expletitive and leaned back in the chair, running his hands through his hair agitatedly. He noticed her then and blinked in surprise before grinning wolfishly.  
  
"Well hello there Beth, changed your mind have you?"  
  
Lestrade snorted. "Hardly. I told you, you just aren't my type James." She waved a hand to the disorder of the room. "You're too messy..."  
  
He affected a hurt look and placed his hands over his heart. "You wound me fair Elizabeth, I shall pine forever!" He sat forward in his chair then. "If it wasn't to make my dreams come true, then what brings you to my dungeon?"  
  
She set the air-tight and waterproof container amidst the clutter on Gregson's desk. He frowned at her and opened his mouth to speak, but she gestured for him to open it with a smug smile. He shrugged and did so, then extracted the piece of paper that was inside. He carefully unfolded it and looked it over. As he read, his eyes grew wide, and he became excited.  
  
"Do you know what this is?" he questioned. Without waiting for a response, he continued, "This...this could be the break I've been looking for. If it's genuine. Where'd you get it?"  
  
Lestrade frowned and shook her head. "Does it matter?"  
  
Gregson gave her a sharp look. "It might...I've got to get someone down to the river in any case, to see if they can find anything there..."  
  
"I'll do it. I don't have any other cases, and I'm sure Greyson'll give the okay," she volunteered, careful to keep the hopeful desparation she was feeling out of her voice.  
  
As she had thought, he immediately took her up on the offer. "Great! Let me get you clearance and we're all set." He grinned again. "You do know you'll be undercover right? Can't have them thinking we're on to them.  
  
*************************************************  
  
Holmes stood on the bank of the river Thames, just out of sight of the removal crew leaving the mangled boat for the evening. He snorted. For a time so sophisticated and so much more technologically more advanced than his own, they had an awefully hard time cleaning up such simple matters as boat crashes. Not that he wasn't grateful. After all, if they had been just a little faster, he wouldn't have this chance to sneak aboard. Soon, all but one of the crew he had seen come in that morning had left. Not long now.  
  
He frowned as the last worker did not appear. Moving carefully closer, he peered inside the boat where a shadowy figure was moving about, an electronic device in its hand. Looking around for a way inside without alerting his presence to the other, Holmes edged around to the side of the barge. He smiled and crawled into the hole that was just wide enough for him to fit through, but far enough away from the other person.  
  
He lifted his cane and depressed the button on the side, making the false wood elongate into a staff. Then, he made his way to where he had seen the figure. Catching sight of it, he tossed the can with a deft flick of his wrist, tripping the other person, who landed hard. Holmes walked closer, watching the other's movements.  
  
"I must warn you, I am trained in martial arts," he called out.  
  
The figure, who had been struggling to get to their feet, slumped to the ground again with a groan. "Holmes! What are _you_ doing here?"  
  
He started in surprise. "Lestrade? I could ask the same question of you." He walked over and offered a hand up.  
  
Lestrade sat up and glared at him, obviously annoyed, but she took the proffered hand anyway. "I'm looking for evidence on a case I've been given. Now, your turn."  
  
"Same here..." He stopped speaking as the boat creaked ominously. "I suggest we head somewhere else to discuss this, however. I trust you found something? Good." Without waiting to see if she'd follow, he turned and walked out.  
  
Fifteen minutes later, they sat at Lestrade's kitchen table. She had changed back into her uniform, and had already sent the data she had retrieved on the boat to the Yard. "You have no idea how glad I am to get out of that smelly thing," she said, refering to the removal crew uniform, "I don't see how anybody can stand that? Now, what case are you working on?"  
  
He told her everything that had occurred the day before, and raised his eyebrow when he finished. She looked very angry. "I take it this most certainly has to do with your case as well?"  
  
"That's stating the obvious Holmes," she quipped. Then she stood up and started pacing. Not a good sign. "There is someone in this city who's peddling babies. Yes, actual babies. They find poor unwed or even wed mothers who think they need the cash more than their children, or who hope that their babies will go to a better home than they could ever provide and offer them lots of money." She stopped and took a breath, while Holmes waited patiently. "Then, they take the babies and sell them to couples who can't have children. Yes, that's still a problem in the 22nd century." She seemed almost defiant.  
  
"How do you know this?" Holmes questioned.  
  
"We've had the young mothers confess. Unfortunately, it was off the record. And they refused to say a word in court. Not that they could tell us who was behind it; only the couples who adopt ever deal directly with the man or woman."  
  
"And of course they won't talk either, for fear of legal reprisal. Mrs. Stanhope was one of these young mothers?"  
  
Lestrade looked at him in surprise. "How? Never mind. Yeah, she was. But she tried to give the money back to get her child back. That's why she was murdered."   
  
Holmes started to speak, but the chiming of the vidphone interrupted him. It was a man he hadn't seen before, though judging from the filthy uniform he wore he was from the Yard.  
  
"Beth, nothing on the boat. You must be Holmes. Great! Can you two come down here right away? We've just got something. Gregson out." The vidphone went black.  
  
Holmes raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. Someone as abrupt as you when talking to someone."  
  
"Whatever you do, don't mention the similarity please?"  
  
"Hmm.."  
  


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	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**  
  
_Well, at least he's straightened up a little,_ Lestrade thought as she once more stood in Gregson's tiny office. She glanced over at Holmes, but of course _he_ wouldn't see anything out of the ordinary. This _was_ the man who used to keep tobacco in a Persian slipper, and who used to use the walls of his flat as target practice.  
  
Holmes returned her glance with a sardonic smile. Of course he _would_ know exactly what she was thinking. He didn't know everything though. She grew pensive as her mind returned to what had brought her to this office the first time. They would pay. Whoever _they_ were. Her thoughts were interrupted by Gregson's entrance.  
  
"Great, great..." James was saying, his tone excited, "This is just absolutely perfect!"  
  
"What is?" Lestrade asked with barely contained annoyance.  
  
"Why, that you both are here together. It's perfect."  
  
"That hardly explains anything, Inspector Gregson," Holmes stated, his tone highly amused, "Though I do hope you aren't planning on setting us up. I am afraid our professional relationship might suffer." His lips curved into a slight grin when Lestrade shot him a lethal glare.  
  
"Oh but that's exactly what I'm planning on doing," James insisted, a wide grin splitting his own boyish face, "In fact, you two are going to be married."  
  
"What?! James if this is some sick kind of..." She clenched her fists and advanced on him, ignoring the three foot steel desk between them.  
  
Holmes put a hand on her arm, effectively restraining her. "Easy Lestrade. Let us hear the man out before you rip him to shreds."  
  
She folded her arms across her chest and settled on simply glaring at James. She could wait. Waiting was fine. But if he didn't get on with it....  
  
James was oblivious to his near death experience, and the danger he was still in and continued on excitedly. "It's not exactly what you think...you see I found a couple who told me everything. Off the record of course. Only, they weren't able to get a child. That's why they came. They didn't have enough money. So they didn't get to see the big-wig. But I did find out the procedure they went through. I just need someone to pose as a couple, and go all the way. Then we've got these guys. In the bag. I was going to ask you anyway Beth, but I didn't know who could be your husband. I can't go because I'm head of the group...and one of the lackey's might recognize me from snooping around...."  
  
"So you thought of me?" Holmes asked, "An excellent idea. I am a master of disguise after all."  
  
James beamed. "Exactly. Anyway...I'm going to leave this entirely in your hands. That way, even if they're on to my operation...they can't trace your made up names back here. Don't report in until you've got 'em. Or if something goes wrong. Thanks." He handed Holmes the information and then sat down in the chair, still beaming, obviously very pleased with himself.  
  


* * *

Sitting at Lestrade's kitchen table once more, Holmes pulled out the information that couple had given, and perused it quickly. It certainly seemed simple enough. And yet, the most simple things could turn into something complex, as he knew from experience. Like the woman who was stomping into her kitchen at that moment.  
  
He looked up from the paper and smiled at her to get the expected glare. She knew more about all this than she was letting on, though he wasn't about to question her. He also knew from experience that Lestrade could close up tighter than a locked door when cornered. He was content to wait and see how things played out.  
  
"So," she asked, "What exactly do we have to do?"  
  


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	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**  
  
"So what do we do next?" Lestrade asked Holmes as she walked into the kitchen, glaring at his knowing smile. He did it on purpose because he knew it annoyed her. She knew she really shouldn't react to it, but it had become second nature. He smiles, she glares. With a quick shake of her head to clear it of such inane thoughts, she placed her hands on her hips and waited. He handed her the paper with that couple's information. "What do you think of it?"  
  
She frowned as she perused it, then handed it back with a shrug. "Seems simple enough. We place an advertisement in certain circles and then wait for a response. Although, I wonder why James didn't use the normal data pads..."  
  
He nodded. "Yes, it does seem simple doesn't it? A little too simple I wonder?"  
  
"_Too_ simple, Holmes? What do you mean by that?"  
  
"Nothing at the moment Lestrade, I suggest you get some rest." Obviously dismissing her for the moment, Holmes rose and walked back to the second bedroom, the one that had been converted into a catch-all, that didn't have too much "caught".  
  
She rolled her eyes and tucked the slip of paper into one of John Watson's journals lying on the table. They always seemed to be somewhere other than the last place she remembered putting them. _Oh yeah, Lestrade, what'd they do? Just get up and walk away by themselves?_ "Well, technically...oh great now I'm answering myself."  
  
She gave an expressive sigh and walked towards her bedroom, only to be stopped by the vid-phone. It was Greyson, with James, just behind him. Both wore serious expressions.  
  
"What can I do for you...sir?" She asked, her puzzlement creeping into her voice. Obviously James hadn't been able to get clearance for her to be gone for an indefinite length of time.  
  
"Lestrade, is Holmes around?" Greyson asked, his voice quiet and grave, which made her all the more concerned and confused. Greyson was _never_ quiet.  
  
"Not at the moment," she replied truthfully.  
  
"That's too bad. He's going to find this hard to believe. _I_ find it hard to believe...but the evidence is overwhelming..." He trailed off, seeming to have difficulty in speaking.   
  
"Find what hard to believe, sir?" Her apprehension was growing. Something was definitely not right here.  
  
"You're wanted for the murder of Elaine Stanhope. I'll be there in a few minutes. Don't go anywhere, Lestrade. Greyson out." The vid-phone went abruptly dark.  
  
She started to go get Holmes, but someone busting in through the front door stalled her. She gasped at the person standing there.  
  
"Dad! What are you..."  
  
"Don't you 'dad' me you lousy little..." her father growled, "I knew you were jealous of her, but to go this far...You were in league with Stanhope, and don't bother denying it. You encouraged them to get together."  
  
The man stepped further into the room and delivered a viscious backhand. Lestrade, still too startled by what he was saying, what Greyson had just got through telling her, and the fact that he was _here_ in her apartment, allowed it to catch her across the cheek. She stumbled backwards from the blow, and fell over the arm of the couch.  
  
"The police will be here any second now, and you'll go to prison," her father snarled, "But not before I make you pay for what you did to my little girl, you worthless piece of filth. I knew I should have taken care of this before they took you away." He advanced on her again, but a sudden movement behind him, and then a blow to his head knocked him unconscious.  
  
Lestrade looked up at Holmes with still in shock mental processes. She didn't comprehend what had just happened, didn't want to. She numbly followed Holmes when he gestured for her to proceed him out sliding glass door onto the balcony, and then down the railing to the ground below. Nothing immediately after that registered in her brain.  
  


* * *

It had been three hours, and Lestrade still wasn't responding to anything. Holmes knelt before her in the semi-dark tunnel beneath 221b, and waved the scanner across her face again. It still showed normal brain functions, normal physiologically anyway. That at least was something. Holmes had no doubts the man had hit her before. How could a man claim to be a father and do something like this? He grimmaced and put the device away and sat down beside her. He needed to snap her out of this somehow.  
  
The conversation with Inspector Greyson had cinched matters, at least concerning Gregson's involvement. He had set them up, and no doubt he had also expected them to follow these instructions to the letter. Holmes' lips curved into a grim smile. Gregson had no idea who he was dealing with. Now to get Lestrade acting right again.  
  
He pitched his voice slightly deeper and threw it. "Well, well, what have we here, a Scotland Yard detective weak and all alone..."  
  
As he had hoped, Lestrade jerked herself out of whatever mental purgatory she'd been in an leapt to her feet. "Moriarty!" She blinked and looked over at Holmes, who couldn't help a slight chuckle. "Huh?"  
  
"I thought that might work," he answered her in his nemesis' voice.  
  
She sighed with exasperation and plopped back next to him. "It...it wasn't just a crazy dream was it?"  
  
He didn't have to ask what she was referring to. "I am afraid not. However, we are still going on as planned."  
  
"And just how are we going to do that, Holmes? Or are you forgetting that I'm _wanted_? For _murder_?"  
  
"I have not. But we are going to have assumed names after all, not to mention disguises and masked DNA. Everything that will help us out. I have a feeling once we solve this case, you shall be free in clear. If I'm not very much mistaken."  
  
She gave another exasperated sigh. "Why do you say that when you know you're almost _never_ mistaken?" She shrugged. "Anyway, we're just going to go on with what that paper said?"  
  
"No we are not. Gregson purposely gave that to us just so we would be caught. After all, a one of a kind advertisement is rather conspicuous. No, we shall simply have to do a bit more research, and we'll start by pretending we're Americans who've come to New London to see if the technology here can cure a certain sterility problem. I'm almost one hundred percent certain the couples are found at the clinics."  
  
"You mean, we wait for them to come to us?" She seemed to be ignoring his revelation about Gregson, but that was the way Lestrade was. Ignore painful subjects until she had to face them head on. And, as he knew, she was in her worst sort of mood in that position. Which was why he wasn't going to ask her why she hadn't told him Elaine Stanhope had been her sister. At least not yet.  
  


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	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**  
  
Watson walked cheerfully down the street, his arms laden with two grocery bags. It was rather late out, but that didn't bother him. No one usually bothered robots, even if they _did_ have elastomasks on. He was therefore surprised when his sensors picked up three humans in the vicinity behind him. He tensed before the readings finished, then relaxed when he realized who they were.  
  
"I hope you know, it is almost impossible to sneak up on a level 7 law enforcement compudroid," he told the intruders.  
  
"Aww, we weren't sneaking up on ya Watson," Wiggins said coming up beside him, "We were just wondering if you needed any help."  
  
"Yeah, and to find out if _you_ know anything about what's going on," Deidre qualified as she came up on the other side. Tennyson hovered into view beside Deidre.  
  
"You mean Holmes' new case? I am afraid not. Though I'm sure he'll tell us all about it if he's returned. And I can manage these two bags."  
  
The three of them exchanged glances, then Tennyson asked if he knew anything about Inspector Lestrade. Watson frowned. "Inspector Lestrade? I, Oh my!" He gaped in astonishment at the sight of several police cruisers surrounding 221.  
  
The portly form of Chief Inspector Greyson was standing just outside the door, talking to another inspector. From this angle Watson couldn't be absolutely certain, but he thought it was Gregson. As he and the kids got closer, he saw that it was.  
  
"I say, what _is_ going on here?"  
  
Greyson turned around and smiled, though it was obvious it was for the children's sake. Had Watson been looking at Deidre, he knew he'd see her rolling her eyes.  
  
"Watson," Greyson began, "Where's the dead detective? And you kids better run along. Nothing to see here."  
  
"Okay sir," Wiggins agreed, and with a motion of his head the three of them headed off. Watson frowned, hoping that whatever they were up to wouldn't get them into trouble. That had been just a little bit _too_ agreeable.  
  
"Why don't we go inside," Gregson suggested once they had left. Greyson nodded and Watson could only agree.  
  
Once they had reached the interior, Watson placed the bags on the table in the kitchen, then picked up the envelope adressed to him in Holmes' handwriting. This might explain what's going on. He opened it, ignoring the impatient demands of the two policemen in the main room.  
  
_Watson,  
I have found some disturbing evidence that Lestrade murdered her own sister. She disappeared before I could question her. I am looking for her. I had no idea she could be so diabolical. Give your full cooperation to the Yard, but do not let them interfere. I will bring her in.  
Holmes._  
  
"Oh my..."  
  
Watson walked into the main room, leaving the note in the kitchen. He drew in a mournful breath, then told the two men exactly what Holmes had said in the letter. Too his surprise, Greyson actually agreed.  
  


* * *

"You did what!" Lestrade exclaimed, her eyes flashing dangerously.  
  
"I left a letter explaining to Watson that.."  
  
She waved him off. "I know that! _Why did you do that?_"  
  
He raised an eyebrow, now a non descript brown. "I should think that would be obvious. One, Watson cannot be deceitful, which both his programming and the journals are responsible for. Two, we needed a way to keep the law enforcement off of our trail. By giving me full freedom we achieve that goal. Now, they will simply think you are on the run, and whoever was expecting us to go about the baby ring case will relax their guard. I should also tell you that the evidence _is_ highly against you."  
  
She made a face and continued putting on her own disguise which consisted of a red wig. She wouldn't change clothes until Holmes left the area. Not that he'd notice anything; it was the principle of the thing. He had changed sometime before she had snapped out of whatever trance she'd been in. She laughed softly to herself and neatly twisted the longer hair into a chignon, leaving a few strands to fall forward and frame her face. She turned to Holmes who had his own wig in place.  
  
"Well? How do I look?"  
  
"Like a socialite who has decided to degrade herself by wearing inferior threads," he said, referring to the uniform she still had on.  
  
"Well, if you would just leave for a sec, I can change into that very ritzy outfit you've provided," she pointed out sweetly.  
  
"Ah, of course." He sketched a quick bow and walked away. Was it just her imagination, or had he blushed? She grinned and quickly donned the clothing and the black leather ankle boots that went along with them.  
  
"Okay, you can come back now," she sang out. To her surprise, four people walked in instead of just one. "What are _you_ three doing here?"  
  
"We were worried about you Inspector," Wiggins said, "And, we overheard everything you and Mister Holmes said and we were wondering if we could help out somehow and.."  
  
"Slow down Mister Wiggins," Holmes said with a grin, "You most certainly can help us out. By helping Watson out." He held up a hand when they started to protest. "You of course will know the truth of the matter, and I need you to keep an eye on Gregson. Make sure he still thinks I am after Lestrade. But do not, and I repeat do _not_ place yourselves in danger. If you think he is on to you or us, give this to Greyson." He handed them an envelope. "Now, get on with you."  
  
As they were walking out, bits of their conversation filter back. "I knew she couldn't be a murderer. She might be all uptight and stuff but she's an okay person," Deidre's voice began and then trailed off as they were now too far off.  
  
Lestrade turned to face Holmes. "All right Holmes. Now all we have to do is mask our DNA and..." she grinned mischievously, "just how were you planning on fooling the doctors at the clinic that you're sterile?"  
  
"With this." He placed a small electronic device in her hand.  
  
She rolled her eyes. "You're going to place false data in the scanning equipment. Now why didn't I think of that. Oh I know. Because there's a ten percent chance it _won't_ work!"  
  
"I am open to suggestions," he replied, sounding miffed.  
  
"No no, it's the best plan we have. I'm sorry. I guess I'm not holding up as well as I thought I was." She turned away from him and walked down the tunnel. "We better get going."  
  


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	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**  
  
Lestrade tapped her foot against the cold tile floor impatiently. The doctor and Holmes had been in the examination room for five minutes. Okay, so she was nervous. Who wouldn't be? There was so much that could go wrong. The DNA mask could dissipate; the doctor could catch Holmes in the act of sabotaging the equipment; the data might not register....Luckily her nervousness could be interpreted as anticipation of the news, good or bad, that the doctor would have.  
  
"Relax sweety," the elderly woman sitting beside her said, "I'm sure everything will be just fine. You're husband looks like a very spry individual."  
  
Lestrade offered a tremulous smile, while inside she was laughing hysterically. Somehow thinking about Holmes in that manner was an extremely funny joke...on her. She was almost glad when Dr. Higgins chose that moment to beckon her into his office. Rising on shaking limbs, she walked forward.  
  
As she sat down in the chair beside Holmes and opposite the doctor, she was reminded why she hated doctors' offices. A memory surfaced, one she'd tried and succeeded in suppressing, except in situations like this.  
  
_She sat beside the man, a friend of her mother's he had said. She didn't care who he was. He was nice to her. The doctor sitting across from them sneered down at her with undisguised contempt. It was her father.  
  
"You believe a child over me, Jacob?" her father was saying, "She's a clumsy little thing, and a chronic liar to boot. Have you ever known me to hit a child? I'm a pediatrician for God's sake!"  
  
"Yes, I know. However, she didn't tell me anything about the bruises she has all over her face, and most likely her body as well. I just came to ask if you minded if she came and stayed as a companion to my daughter. My wife and I are gone so much that I'm worried she may not get the attention she needs. Beth is her age."  
  
"Hmm...I guess it wouldn't do any harm," her father said with a shrug, "But like I said, she's a clumsy little thing and a.."  
  
"..a chronic liar, yes I know. I shall keep that in mind. Come on Beth," the man stood up and walked out the door. She started to follow.  
  
"You just remember, you're mother was a whore and you'll never be any better. Got it?"  
  
She nodded swiftly before scurrying from the room._  
  
She viciously shoved it to the back of her mind, and concentrated on what the doctor was saying.  
  
"The good news is...it isn't a life threatening disease," Higgins was saying, "however, it does afflict many males; more than it ever has in the past. Researchers have theorized that it's caused by the high pollution, which is higher now than it was. Mrs. Johnson, are you all right?"  
  
Lestrade blinked and looked at the doctor, slightly confused, "I..."  
  
Higgins nodded in understanding as Holmes gently took her hand. "Yes, I know. It is rather difficult to comprehend. You're husband is sterile. There are of course other ways...artificial insemination is just one."  
  
"We've already tried that," she replied at the same time as Holmes. He smiled at her and gestured for her to go on. "They said that there was no reason why it should have failed, but it did. I...I've always wanted to..to..have.." She stopped, not entirely pretending to be too choked up to continue.  
  
Holmes placed his arms around her shoulders, and she buried her face into his chest. "Thank you doc. I...guess we'll be leaving now. Her parents will want to hear the news."  
  
"There _is_ another alternative," Higgins quickly inserted, "If you're interested." Lestrade looked up. "We'll do anything to get a baby, " she told him, "Won't we Charlie?"  
  
"Of course Danni."  
  
Higgins smiled as though he had just won the million cred prize. "Excellent." He then proceeded to tell them all about an adoption agency, and explained the procedure to them. Lestrade exchanged a glance with Holmes. His eyes told her he had some very choice news for her.  
  
"Isn't that illegal," Holmes asked when the doctor had finished.  
  
"Do you want a baby?" Higgins rejoined, having obviously gone through this several times.  
  
"Yes!" Lestrade exclaimed right on cue, giving her 'husband' a hard glance. "We want a baby very much. I said we'd do anything and I meant it."  
  
"Yes," Holmes said with a sigh, "Anything. Just tell us what to do now."  
  
"Go to this location," Higgins handed them a map of Sussex, "There you'll find a lodge. I've already registered your names. You'll be staying there until a child is available."  
  
Once they were out of hearing of anyone else, and Holmes had checked for possible planted listening devices, he told her something very interesting. "It's all a set up."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Here, I didn't need this. They falsify their own data when someone has no problems. Anyone else would not have noticed the extra amount of time spent on the scanner, but I am not just anyone else."  
  
She took the small device and crushed in her hand, letting it drop to the ground. "So, it's a set up from the start? Wonderful. I mean, well you know what I meant."  
  
"I do indeed. It's just one more loop in the rope they're going to hang themselves with." He gave a grim smile then.  
  


* * *

Watson still could not believe what he had read in that letter. Lestrade could not be a murderer, no matter what evidence Holmes had found. The detective _had_ been known to be wrong before. Well, whatever the case may be, Watson was determined to prove either way. And the first place to start was Derrick Stanhope, the deceased's husband.  
  
********************* "And you actually believed that note? He's probably in on the set up too," Stanhope was saying, his voice agitated. Watson noted heightened blood pressure. The man was certainly upset.  
  
"I see," Watson said, even though he didn't, "And exactly how do know Lestrade is innocent? Is it perhaps because you killed your wife yourself, and now your guilty conscience is making you....." He trailed off at the derisive snort.  
  
"Look, I can't tell you how I know. I just know that Beth did not kill my wife. Neither did I. Elaine what are you doing?!"  
  
Watson turned around to see a slight figure walking into the room. She had very light brown hair, and chocolate eyes. It was almost the same as the picture he had seen of Elaine Stanhope. He felt his mouth drop open. "How the devil?"  
  
"Watson...nice to meet you," she said in a soft, hesitant voice, "my sister was always reading those journals."  
  


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	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**  
  
Watson continued to gape in surprise, before his sense of outrage took over. "I do not pretend to understand what is going on here, but whatever it has placed an innocent woman's job and freedom on the line."  
  
"You're right," Stanhope sneered, "You don't understand. My wife's life is on the line..."  
  
"Let me Derrick," Mrs. Stanhope said softly, "You see Watson, I made a bad decision. Someone came to me when I was pregnant, and they somehow knew how I felt. Derrick and I didn't have any money, and I didn't feel right bringing a child into the world, nor did I want to go to my parents. Beth would have helped but...she's not really that much better off than we are. "Anyway, I agreed to sign over my child. Only, when he was born, and they took him from me...I knew I couldn't live without him. I went back, to try and give the creds back and I overheard a strange conversation. They were saying they couldn't just give the baby, my baby, away to just anyone. That the boss needed him as far away from New London as possible. I guess I must have made some kind of noise, because they found me and tied me up on a boat. "I hate water, I've always hated it. I think it's because Beth nearly drowned once..." She stopped and shook her head, "Anyway, my need to survive and find my baby overcame that fear, and I swam to shore. I found Derrick and told him what happened. We both decided it was best to let everyone think I was dead. Derrick then went to see if Sherlock Holmes could help us out. I have no idea how Beth got involved in this murder plot...we didn't want her to know anything about it."  
  
Stanhope growled, "Someone set her up on purpose. And going to Sherlock Holmes was the worst thing I ever did. All he's going to do is get her and take her back to the Yard where she'll be crypnotized, or worse, sent to the moon."  
  
Watson shook his head, wanting to defend his friend, and yet this once he couldn't help but agree. "Yes, Holmes, though incredibly intelligent _is_ human after all, and subject to the same fallacies we all suffer. However, I think that if we solve this puzzle, Lestrade's name will be cleared."  
  
"Exactly what we were hoping to hear, Watson," a familiar feminine voice rang out, followed by the form of Edith Presbury, "Beth needs more friends like you."  
  


* * *

They were sitting in the lobby of the lodge, where they had been instructed to wait. Holmes glanced over at Lestrade with concern. Her eyes kept going glassy at times, as though she were in another time and place. Then she would come back to the present and it would be as though it had never happened. When he questioned her about it, she would tense and simply ignore him. This was not good. Lestrade was never like this. She was always in command of herself. Well almost always, but the Culverton-Smith case didn't count.  
  
He placed a hand on her arm, and she jerked out of whatever had her mind in its grip. He leaned in close, as though to nuzzle on her ear. "Tell me...why is your sister's maiden name Canton?" He asked as an opening.  
  
Lestrade blinked and then shrugged. "Lestrade is my mother's maiden name...I chose it when..." She broke off and sat up straight. He nodded to himself. It certainly made sense.  
  
"Mr. and Mrs. Johnson?" a masculine voice called out. They looked up to see a tall, slightly overweight gentleman bearing down on them. Holme felt Lestrade stiffen beside him, as they both stood up to greet the man.  
  
"Hello, I'm Marcus," he greeted, smiling, "I'm going to show you around our facilities here, and generally help your stay here be almost as comfortable as home."  
  
"Hello," Holmes answered, "And you can just call us Danni and Charlie. I'll let you figure out which is which."  
  
"Ah, Americans. I might have known. Oh well, I guess I won't hold that against you," Marcus replied with a grin, his own American accent showing through.  
  
"How long have you worked here, Marcus?" Lestrade suddenly asked.  
  
"Only a few days actually," he answered with a sheepish grin, "I'm thinking about getting married and the pay is really good. Look, I know what you're thinking and...well...these kids would be really bad off if they didn't come here..." He trailed off, as though what he was saying left a bad taste in his mouth. Interesting. Holmes made a mental note of it for later.  
  
"Well, lead on..." Holmes gestured with a broad grin. He turned to Lestrade who had that look on her face again, and frowned. "Danni...darling, lets go..."  
  
Lestrade blinked and then offered her own sheepish grin. "Sorry, I was just...remembering something. This place is familiar to me."  
  
Marcus nodded in understanding, as he led them out of the lobby on a tour of the grounds. When the came back inside, he took them to their room. "It's bigger than most, I guess Dr. Higgins was impressed with you guys. Anyway, the master bedroom has a king sized bed. A waterbed at that. Well, I'll leave you guys to it. Um I mean...the boss will come by to speak with you in the morning...heh uh..." He quickly backed away as he handed Holmes the key.  
  
Holmes raised an eyebrow and looked over at Lestrade, who was frowning. "Something the matter, Danni?"  
  
She shook her head and motioned for him to open the door. He shrugged and did so, allowing her to enter first. They then both searched vigorously for listening devices as they chatted inanely about whether they would get a boy or a girl, and what he or she would look like. Generally the cheerful sort of thing husbands and wives talk about when they'r about to have a baby...or adopt one.  
  
"All clean," Lestrade said, her relief obvious. "Holmes I know that guy. He went to high school with Edith and me. They dated a couple of times."  
  
"Who knows how many other people you might know. This operation is rather large."  
  
"As large as that king sized bed?" she rejoined sweetly, the Lestrade he knew back in force.  
  
Holmes didn't dignify that with a response as he turned and sat on said king sized bed, only to find himself unable to control his movements, much to Lestrade's amusement if her laughter was any indication. "Why would anyone want to sleep in such a contraption?" he asked in exasperation once he had finally figured out how to roll off to the side, "Never mind that, _how_ does one sleep in such a contraption."  
  
"Weeelll...uh...I don't think 'sleeping' is the objective...exactly..."  
  
Holmes looked up to find her blushing slightly. Something hit him. Hard. In the gut. She grinned and shrugged. "I'll take the couch."  
  
Holmes shook his head. "I think not. _You_ are going to help me figure this contraption out. We are in this together, and if I cannot sleep, then neither can you." Before she could react, jand before he could think too hard about what he was doing, he reached up and pulled her down with him onto the bed.  
  


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	8. Chapter 8

A/N: If you go to http://www.dnaco.net/~mobrien/holmes/ There are several very well written SH22 fics, many of them much better than my stuff. Maureen also has an episode guide and other features to her website.  
  
**Chapter 8**  
  
Wiggins blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the building he had followed Gregson into. Tennyson was checking up on Watson, and Deidre was making a nuisance of herself at the Yard, while taking some important files from Gregson's office. Wiggins could only hope that Deidre didn't decide to pilfer anything else at the same time, though the younger girl was usually good about things like that when she was on a case.  
  
He carefully edged closer to the doorway of the room he had seen Gregson walk into. There were two other people inside, though he couldn't see them clearly. He strained to hear what they were saying.  
  
"So it is all set up?" Gregson was asking.  
  
"It is," a woman's voice answered, "You know what to do when they bring her in? Good. You will be payed at the completion of your job. Go now."  
  
Wiggins had to jump back to avoid being seen by Gregson who walked out of the room and down the hall, whistling a jaunty tune. For a moment he debated with himself whether to follow the man as per orders, or to stay and find out more about the other two, one of which was a leader of some sort. He decided on the latter.  
  
"The wife keeps having some sort of mental break downs or something," the other person, a man, was saying, "If you leave the child with them..."  
  
"He is imperfect, Dr. Higgins, therefore it does not matter who gets him. I just want him as far away from here as possible."  
  
"He's healthier than most infants his age..." the one called Higgins argued, "I would hardly call him imperfect."  
  
"All are imperfect! All but one," came the immediate response, "Now go, so you can get there by morning."  
  
Wiggins jumped back again, and this time followed the man who walked out.  
  
\ 

* * *

Watson smiled at the boy again, trying to keep his impatience from showing. Really, he couldn't understand why Tennyson was insisting on hanging on his every move, and while under normal circumstances it would taken with great charity, he hadn't had a moment alone to continue talking about the Plan with the Stanhopes and Miss Presbury.  
  
He had begun to think the boy was doing this on purpose, but then he chided himself for such thoughts. Wiggins and Deidre had left him alone and now he just wanted company and was being helpful. To Watson's great relief, Tennyson recieved a call from Deidre and he left to go see what she wanted.  
  
After the boy had left, he made sure no one was following him and made his way towards the Stanhopes' apartment building.  
  


* * *

Lestrade grunted as she landed beside Holmes on the bed. She struggled around to glare at him, only to face his backside as he deftly rolled off and to his feet.  
  
"You look tired, Lestrade," he said with a slight smile, "Get some sleep." He paused, then the smile broke into a wide grin. "I'll take the couch." He turned and sauntered out of the room, leaving her to huff in annoyance.  
  
"Lousy, good for nothing..." she shook her head quickly and sighed. She really _was_ tired. Zed, why did he always have to be right? Because he wouldn't be Sherlock Holmes if he wasn't. She laughed softly and closed her eyes, sleep quickly overtaking her exhausted mind.  
  
_She loved to swim. It offered her a freedom she didn't really get anywhere else, except the flying lessons she was taking. But she wouldn't be allowed a hoverboard until next year, when she had proven she knew the saftey codes from the inside out. Until then, she could enjoy herself in the warm water of the pool at the hotel where she was staying with Mom and Elaine.  
  
As her arms made sure, strong strokes, she tried not to think about when her father would arrive. That always boded ill...for her at least. He didn't seem to mind Elaine or Mom. She shivered and wished she were back at the Presburys' again, but the Professor and his wife had gone on a trip, and Elaine was busy with a new boyfriend.  
  
Finally, to take her mind off all of it, she thought about the journals she'd found, that even her mother hadn't known about. There was something else she'd found, that she hadn't even told Edith about. It somehow seemed like something to keep to oneself. Not just because having a corpse as a family heirloom is rather weird. Of course, it wasn't really her family...  
  
She heaved a large sigh and swam to the side of the pool, and climbed out. If she stayed in too much longer, she'd get all wrinkly. She didn't see her father until he had hit her upside the head.  
  
"Just what do you think you're doing?" he asked, his voice clear and angry. She had once hoped it was because he was drunk, but no, there must really be something wrong with her.  
  
"I...I..was swim...oof!" she wasn't allowed to finish, as he hit her again, this time in the stomach. She doubled over from the pain. He shoved her backwards onto the ground, and a sharp pain lanced from her right ankle all the way to her side.  
  
"You lying little slut!" he shouted. "All right, you want to swim, swim!" He lifted her up and tossed her into the pool, blood from her injured side poured out, turning the water a purplish tint. Then before she could surface, she felt him grab a handful of her hair and hold her under.  
  
The world was starting to go black. She wouldn't be able to hold her breath much longer. Then, as she experienced regret that she'd never get to reread Watson's journals for the tenth time, or find out more about the coffin in that New Scotland Yard warehouse, instinct took over. She reached up and grasped the man's arm, pulling hard.  
  
He was forced to let go of her to try and regain his balance. It was too late, however, and he fell forward with a splash. She took advantage of her new found freedom and surfaced, gasping great lungfuls of air. Then she swam to the edge, climbed out and ran all the way to the room, ignoring the pain in her ankle. She shut the door and locked it, then shoved as much furnature as she could against it, before finally sitting down on the bed.  
  
She was shaking badly, as she called Edith. Without turning the visual on, she asked if she could come stay a while. Her friend instantly agreed, and told her she and Marcus would come to pick her up._  
  
Lestrade woke with a gasp, clutching her side. To her immense relief, it was merely the wooden frame of the waterbed pressing painfully against her. She yawned and stretched, wondering what time it was. As if on cue, Holmes walked in.  
  
"Dr. Higgins has arrived," he stated without preamble, "I suggest you hurry up and get ready ." Once again, he was already prepared, and if she hadn't been so shaken up by the dream she'd just had, she would have been annoyed and offered some sort of scathing comment. As it was, she simply nodded and went about getting her clothes, her mind several years away from the here and now.  
  


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	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**  
  
Holmes smiled amicably at Dr. Higgins as the two of them chatted. The older (at least by appearances) man had one of those kindly trusting faces, that no doubt helped greatly in his efforts to swindle couples from their money, hard earned or otherwise. He was the sort of man Holmes despised. The sort of man who preyed on human emotions and exploited it for his own personal gain. Of course he carefully kept his disgust off of his face and out of his voice.  
  
As he continued to talk, he tried not to think about what his own motives last night had been. Certainly not to do what Lestrade had implied waterbeds had been made for. He could feel his cheeks heating with a blush at the thought, irritably brushed it off. He would most likely need to take a long vacation when this case was over. Though he didn't show it, the future took a lot more out of him than anything he had done in Victorian England. After all, though he was young in appearance, he was still at least eighty plus years in mind.  
  
After a while, Higgins began to squirm in his seat like an impatient child with choice news, who was being asked by his parents not to interrupt. Holmes frowned, as he too began to wonder what was taking Lestrade so long to simply change clothes. He offered an apologetic smile and walked towards the bedroom. A seconds debate over whether or not to knock before entering warred within him before the need to keep up appearances outweighed propriety, and he walked in.  
  
To his surprise, Lestrade was sitting on the ground hugging her knees to her chest. Her old clothes lay on the floor beside her, and she had put on a shirt at least, though the trendy black skirt that went with it also lay on the floor. He frowned and knelt beside her, placing one hand on her shoulder. She jerked away from him and gazed at him with wide, frightened eyes before recognition set in. She pointed at the floor in front of the door.  
  
His frown growing deeper, he looked at the spot. There was a russet colored stain that somebody had tried to cover up, but had obviously failed. Upon closer inspection, it traveled from the door to where the bed was, but dissapeared after that. There were also tracks in the wood, made most likely by someone moving furniture around. Judging by the width and color of the scratches it had been a while. And that russet color could have been made by only one thing: blood, though it too was probably at least as old as the scratches. He told Lestrade all this.  
  
"Lestrade?" he questioned, coming back to sit by her.  
  
She had been watching him the whole time, and now she simply shook her head and smiled unconvincingly. "I guess I'm just a little shaken up by all that's going on. Um..just let me finish getting dressed."  
  
He nodded, but didn't leave the room. Instead he stood and faced the doorway. When Higgins left, he and Lestrade would have to have a talk.  
  


* * *

**Interlude**

  
  
Everything was going perfect. Just the way she liked it. Perfection wasn't, as some people thought, the absense of faults. No, perfection was the little pieces coming together in a way as to make something better than it was before. Like the babies. They were taken from people who could not possibly give them good lives, and given to people who could give them everything they needed.  
  
And like her experiment. Soon, the results of that experiment would be known to the world. But not before she erased past mistakes.  
  


* * *

Wiggins waited patiently for the other two to arrive. He had followed the man called Higgins out of the building, and then gone straight to one of the Underground hidey holes he, Deidre and Tennyson used as a base of operations. For a few minutes he had debated on whether or not to track that man down and follow him to where he was pretty sure Holmes and Lestrade were, so he could tell the detective what he knew. However, Mister Holmes had told them not to place themselves in danger, and going there was probably the fastest way of doing so. So, he called Deidre, who in turn called Tennyson, and the three of them would have a short little meeting to see what each of them had found.  
  
It didn't take long for the other to reach their destination, and Wiggins told Tennyson to report first. The younger boy had nothing of interest to report, except that Watson had seemed impatient with him, something the compudroid had never shown around any of them. Wiggins nodded, feeling oddly like he was taking Mister Holmes' place.  
  
"Well, what I've got isn't much to go on either," Deidre said, "Except that Inspector Lestrade's real name is Elizabeth Juliet Canton. She had it legally changed to Lestrade when she was fifteen. Why, I have no idea. Anyway, guess who her father is? Dr. Canton. You know, the one who does all Tennyson's work?" The girl grinned, looking extremely pleased with herself. "Not only that, but Gregson seems to know more about that family than they do themselves. It's almost like he's been stalking Inspector Lestrade or something. I only had time to copy his files before he came back, Tennyson can pull them up at anytime."  
  
Wiggins nodded again, though he wasn't sure where it all fit in, then told them what he had overheard. They both looked properly impressed and horrified at the same time.  
  
Tennyson asked what they should do next. "Well," Wiggins said thoughtfully, "I...I'm not real sure. I guess do what Mister Holmes would do."  
  
"We can talk to Dr. Canton!" Deidre said excitedly, "Tennyson has an appointment tomorrow. We can ask him if he knows anything."  
  
"Right," Wiggins agreed, "And to keep him from knowing how much we know, we can tell him Holmes is having trouble locating Inspector Lestrade, and that any insights he might have about her would be greatly helpful. Okay...Deidre, you stay with Watson this time, and me and Tennyson will talk with Canton."  
  


*********************************

  
  
"She was adopted," Dr. Canton explained, "I am ashamed to admit, my wife and I went through a "special" adoption program." He shook his head as if in regret. "Elise was barren; or so we thought. Anyway, we both loved children and we both wanted one very badly. We got Elizabeth. At first, she seemed okay, but then, when Elaine was born, she exhibited signs of jealousy. Usually these play out as the elder sibling becomes protective. Beth...never seemed to grow out of it." He stopped and lowered his head.  
  
Wiggins exchanged a glance with Tennyson. There was something not being said here, though what it was he couldn't figure out. Besides, it was real news to hear that the inspector was adopted. Mister Holmes would often remark on the resemblance she had to her predecessor, though admittedly just to annoy her. Maybe that's all it was, but Wiggins didn't think so. Besides, didn't Holmes always say not to jump to conclusions before recieving all the facts?  
  
"I never knew," the pediatrician continued after a moment, "That that jealousy could lead to murder. First, she encouraged Elaine to go out with a man who was quite a bit older than she, and then to marry him. It was obviously a plot to get a hold of our money, which Beth was no longer able to recieve after we kicked her out."  
  
Wiggins fought to keep the frown from his face. Why was Dr. Canton deliberately lying? "I...guess we all didn't know her as well as we thought.." He said with regret.  
  
Dr. Canton nodded in sympathy. "Yes, I know. She...was a chronic liar. And extremely clumsy. I'm surprised she lasted as long as she did at the Yard. I hope...Mister Holmes is able to catch her. Did you know that she and Stanhope lured me to her apartment on the pretense that she wanted to apologize for all the hurt she's caused me, and then clubbed me unconscious when I revealed that I knew she had murdered Elaine?"  
  
Wiggins shook his head. He hadn't known that. But then, all he knew was what he'd overheard Mister Holmes and the inspector talking about in the Underground tunnel. Dr. Canton hadn't been mentioned.  
  
It was sometime later, when Tennyson's examination had been completed, that they stood outside Holmes' flat to wait on Deidre and Watson. Wiggins read the quickly scratched note he found tucked under one of the stairs. It was from Deidre saying she was following Watson, and that he seemed to know Mr. Stanhope quite well. He hoped she didn't do anything rash.  
  


* * *

Watson made sure no one was following as he once again walked towards Stanhope's apartment. So far, everything had been going according to plan. Now, they were just waiting on the report from Miss Presbury's friend Marcus, who had somehow gained a job working at the lodge where the couples were sent for a waiting period. He had sent a quick message earlier, saying he had recieved some interesting news.  
  
Watson gave his surroundings another quick glance, and scan, before knocking on the door to the Stanhopes'. Mr. Stanhope answered and let him in, quickly shutting and locking the door behind him. Neither saw the girl who sauntered up fifteen minutes later, and who placed the sound magnifier against the door.  
  
"Well?" Watson asked, "Any news?"  
  
"Yeah," Stanhope answered, his face grim, "They haven't given away our baby yet, but they have found a couple. Marcus thinks they're in the leader's employ, since Higgins himself recommended them, and since the same guy is taking care of their case now, with no one else's help. However, Marcus says he can take care of them. The woman is some kind of basket case."  
  
Watson was troubled. "How exactly does Marcus plan to 'take care of them'?" he asked, "I do not condone illegal behavior..."  
  
"Neither do I," Mrs. Stanhope interjected, "And neither does Marcus. However, this...this is something different. Something larger than the law. I don't know what it is, but whoever is in charge of this organization was afraid of my baby. Marcus said the couple were American."  
  
Watson could only nod in agreement.  
  


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	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**  
  
Lestrade stared down at the perfect child she held in her arms, the awe she felt most likely evident on her features. She didn't care though, as she gently rocked him back and forth, humming a song she remembered her mother singing to her when she was a child. How could anyone who had held a baby like this ever give him up?  
  
It had been shocking news for both herself and Holmes when Higgins had announced that they had been selected as the parents for a child who had been waiting longer than most. They had been immediately suspicious, thought they didn't show it. Holmes had asked why they had been chosen over the other couples who had been waiting for longer. The doctor had looked away from them as he said that they didn't just choose on first come first serve basis, and that _they_ were the couple the organizer had deemed a most suitable match. Why he was lying, Lestrade didn't know.  
  
A few hours later, a nurse had arrived with the bundle of joy. She had presented it to Lestrade with a flourish and a gentle smile, before leaving with Higgins, who had also brought up supplies needed to care for the infant. That had left just her, Holmes and the baby. For the rest of the night, they had talked about what to do about this situation, and what it could mean to their investigation.  
  
She had been awakened early this morning with the cries of the baby, who she was thinking of calling Jonathan, one of the names she and Elaine had once chosen out of a baby book for when they had children. It was a fitting tribute to the sister she would never see again, and who had been her best friend despite all the difficulties. Of course, she hadn't told Elaine that she had decided never to have children. She had never imagined she would be standing her like this, holding a child she could never keep.  
  
"But don't worry Jonathan," she whispered, "Even after this is over, I'll make sure you go to a good home. And I'll check up on you everyday until you're grown, to make sure you don't have to go through what I did." She continued to rock him and her humming turned to soft words. It wasn't exactly a lullaby, but the tune was quiet enough.  
  


_Three years ago when Jack and Joe,  
Set sail across the foam,  
Each vowed a fortune they would find  
Before returning home.  
  
Jack found his fortune first of all  
Set sail for home that day.  
And as the friends prepared to part  
Poor Joe could only say:  
  
'Give my love to Nelly, Jack  
Kiss her once for me.  
The sweetest girl in all the world  
I know ye'll say to she.  
  
Treat her kindly, Jack old boy  
Tell her I am well,'  
And his parting words were 'Don't forget  
To give my love to Nell'_

  
  
Her voice settled back into humming as she forgot the words to the second verse. Jonathan slept on, his face sweet in repose.   
  
"A lovely tune," Holmes whispered into her ear, "We need to talk Lestrade."  
  
Lestrade jumped. She hadn't even heard him come up. She smiled slightly, but inside she was trembling. He knew, there was no way he couldn't. Not after the way she had been acting. But she didn't want to talk about it. She hadn't told anyone. Not even Edith. When she and Marcus had come to pick her up that day, Lestrade had already repaired most of the damage done to her person.  
  
"Holmes," she whispered back, "I....All right, but....let me go for a walk real quick. I...need to compose myself first." She didn't give him a chance to answer as she handed Jonathan to him and quickly stepped out the door.  
  
She paused just outside the door to take in a lungfull of air before continuing on to the stairs. Had she been paying just a little more attention to her surroundings, she might have noticed the wire strung out between the two banisters at ankle height. As it was, she tripped over it before her natural instinct took over and she kept herself from rolling down the stairs by grabbing on to the railing.  
  
She growled low in her throat as she stood up and took the wire off to show it to Holmes. Normally she would have left it there for him to examine, but she didn't want anyone else to get hurt by it. What was making her really angry was the fact that she could have been carrying Jonathan at the time.  
  


* * *

"What do you think you're doing!"  
  
Deidre gasped and looked up to see a very angry blond looking down at her. She swallowed nervously and waved. "Hehe, I was just uhm..."  
  
The blond just shook her head and grabbed the girl by the shirt sleeve. "Come on inside. I bet Watson will know who you are." Deidre sighed in defeat, knowing that the jig was up. Now, she just had to convince Watson to let her and the others help him out. Without letting him know what she knew.  
  
The compudroid was of course surprised to see her, since he hadn't noticed her on his scans. "Deidre, what the deuce are you doing here? I made sure no one was following me..."  
  
"I...already knew you were coming here.." she admitted, "So I waited to come until after I was sure you wouldn't be scanning anymore. Anyway, I already know a lot..and besides...you _could_ use our help." She gave him her most winning smile, the one she knew he couldn't resist. Only Inspector Lestrade and Mister Holmes were immune to it.  
  
"Oh well...I don't suppose it could hurt," Watson began, only to be interrupted by the man, who Deidre took to be Mr. Stanhope.  
  
"What? You can't be serious."  
  
"I am very serious. This young lady and her two compatriots are extremely useful in researching and finding things that most people wouldn't even think to look at. They may be able to locate the leader of this baby ring."  
  
Deidre hid her triumphant smile as the blond and Mr. Stanhope agreed. Then a brunette walked out of a bedroom. Deidre gaped at her. It was the woman she'd overheard, but not only that, it was Mrs. Stanhope! "Oh zed! You mean all this time you've been alive? I may not like Inspector Lestrade much, I don't like law of any kind, but she doesn't deserve to be framed for murder!"  
  
Mrs. Stanhope smiled sadly. "No, she doesn't. And I offered to go to the police, but Derrick, Watson and Edith all seem to think that would be a bad idea."  
  
Deidre nodded. Now that the shock had worn off, she could see the truth of that. No, the only way Mrs. Stanhope could reveal the truth would be if they caught the person behind her 'murder'. Besides, Inspector Lestrade was safe enough with Mister Holmes at the moment. "Okay, just let me break the news to Wiggins and Tennyson, and we'll find out what they've learned." It wasn't just because she wanted to see the looks on their faces when they were told, she also didn't want these guys to know about Mister Holmes plot either. Oh boy was this going to be fun.  
  


* * *

**A/N:**_The song Beth sings is another one my sister used to sing to me when I was little. I have no idea who wrote it, and I really have forgotten most of the second and third verses._  
  
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	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**  
  
"They could have killed Jonathan!" Lestrade growled storming into the room, holding what looked like a wire out in front of her as though it were a poisonous snake.  
  
Holmes looked up at her from where he stood at the crib. He had just put the baby back in and hadn't expected her back so soon. With a frown he took the wire from her hands and studied it. It was just a simple plastic cord, like the ones used for hobbies like the basket weaving contest he had noticed when they had first entered the lodge. He raised an eyebrow and looked at her still angry face, waiting for her to explain her remark, though he had an idea.  
  
"It was tied across the top of the stairs...I tripped over it...Holmes what if I had been carring Jonathan?" She shook her head in agitation, "They must be on to us...they..."  
  
"I rather doubt that Lestrade," he quickly interjected, "When there are much safer and less noticeable methods. That's not to say someone wasn't hoping to kill one or the both of us. However they are obviously not professionals. One, the cord used is highly visible if you're paying attention. Two, they did not stop to think that someone else might be hurt by this. Now, calm down. You'll wake the baby."  
  
Lestrade instantly relaxed, at least as much as she was able to. Her eyes still showed her agitation though, and her inner turmoil. Then they grew distant in the way he had become familiar with. "At least I didn't break my ankle. Edith won't be able to come this time..."  
  
"This time?" he questioned. "Lestrade, this has happened before?"  
  
She nodded, then began to speak in a monotone voice that sounded far away. "Yes, he threw me down after he hit me. It broke my ankle, and I cut my side somehow. I think because I fell against one of the chairs. Then he threw me into the pool. I couldn't breath....he...he wouldn't...he wouldn't let me...." She stopped and stared at Holmes.  
  
"You're father," he stated, already knowing the answer. To his surprise she shook her head in denial.  
  
"That's just it. He isn't my father...That was the whole problem. I was somebody else's child, somebody who was...bad...and I was just like her....at least according to him....they adopted me....he and my mom did. We were happy. I remember he used to sing to me, like my mom....then...Elaine was born. I was ecstatic. I had always wanted a baby sister. But they said that was impossible. I thought we would all be even more happy. I thought...but he said I was bad, that I would be just like her. He said he had to keep me away from Elaine, because I would turn her bad too. He said...he said I had to be made good....and to do that....I had to be taught. He hit me...all the time...." She stopped and looked up at Holmes with wide eyes. "I couldn't tell anybody. If I did then Elaine and my mom would be unhappy. Don't you see?"  
  
Holmes nodded. He could see only too well, and it made his blood boil. How had she been able to hide something like this? How had she been able to cope with the trauma that had undoubtably been caused? The answer was she hadn't. Which was why it was causing so much trouble now, when everything they did reminded her of it. He placed one hand on her shoulder. The touch seemed to bring her back to the present.  
  
She began to pace the room, and to his surprise continued to talk. It was as though once she had started, she was unable to stop. Like a boulder rolling down a mountainside. "Professor Presbury found out about me. He said he was a friend of my mother's....but the truth was...he hardly knew her except as a passing acquaintance. They both taught at the same university you see. He tried to get me to press charges but...I knew I couldn't. Elaine thought the world of her father, and there really was no reason for her not to. He was very good to her.   
  
"I spent a lot of time with the Presburys and Edith and I became best friends. I still visited my mom and my sister though. Professor Presbury _did_ know my grandfather, my mother's father, as I came to find out. He had given him some journals." Here Lestrade smiled. "They were Dr. Watson's. The Professor gave them to me to read, along with a key code to some New Scotland Yard warehouse. They...kept me sane those journals. You and Watson did. Then I found out what was at the warehouse. It was an even greater treasure.  
  
"When I was fifteen, that was when my father tried to drown me. I decided then that I needed to take control of my life. I stayed with Edith and her father until I went to college." She stopped pacing and looked away from him. Her shoulders started shaking. "I...tried to forget...I...th..thought I had...but..."  
  
With a start, Holmes realized she was crying. He walked over to her and gently placed his arms around her. She turned to him and buried her head into his chest, clutching at his shirt. He tightened his hold as years of hidden pain and anguish poured out in the form of salt water. He had never been comfortable around crying women, but now he seemed to know exactly what to do as he patted her back and whispered soft encouragements.  
  
How long they stood that way, he had know way of knowing, but soon the racking sobs settled into hiccoughing whimpers, then into silence. She looked up at him with red rimmed eyes and smiled. "Thank you. I guess I didn't know how much I needed to get that off my chest."  
  
He smiled back, glad to see that she was okay now. He realized he was still holding her, but made no move to pull back seeing as she was in no hurry to end the embrace either. Time seemed to stand still as he gazed into her blue-grey eyes. A charge passed between them, bonding them, and their smiles faded. He slowly lowered his head until their lips touched.  
  


* * *

Watson sighed as Wiggins finished his explanation. Why couldn't Holmes have trusted him? Oh well, what was done was done. No use dwelling on the past after all. Still, it _did_ hurt. He had thought Holmes was his friend. However, now was not the time to think about things like that. Especially as Mrs. Stanhope looked as if she were about to explode.  
  
"How dare he! She did not get kicked out. She left. She had to. He nearly killed her!"  
  
Everyone stared at the normally quiet woman. She had the grace to blush, but didn't stop her tirade. "I saw him. They didn't know I was there, but I was. He held her under the water, and if she hadn't thought to pull him in with her, my father would have murdered her!"  
  
"Easy love," Stanhope said, "It happened a long time ago. Now, we need to find out what Gregson has to do with your family, or at least why he's so interested in Beth."  
  
Edith Presbury nodded. "Yes, and we need to get word to Mr. Holmes somehow. I'm afraid to do so through Marcus, though I've warned him not to harm the 'Americans' as he's taken to calling them."  
  
"Hmm. Well, I suppose one or two of us must go to Sussex, while the rest of us stay here and find out about that strange lady Wiggins saw, and to follow Gregson about. Any volunteers?"  
  
"I'll go with whoever gets Sussex," Wiggins said, "Since it was my decision to tell you guys."  
  
"Right then," Stanhope said, "Elaine, myself and Wiggins will go to the lodge. I think actually seeing her might be more believable if you know what I mean."  
  
Watson sighed again. "I suppose Tennyson and I will muck about trying to find more about that lady while Miss Presbury and Deidre continue to follow Gregson. Is that all right with you two?"  
  
They both nodded. "All right, then, lets be on our way."  
  


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	12. Chapter 12

Okay folks, just as a warning...this chapter has a little bit of gore in it....Okay...a lot of gore...if you don't have the stomach for it...skip over it...  
  
**Chapter 12**  
  


**Interlude**

  
  
She smiled softly as she held the picture up. Yes, she had made a mistake, a big one. But Ellie had been so desperate, and it wouldn't do to let them know what she had done. Besides she needed to see how her experiment would do. And it had gone perfectly, just as she knew it would, though she hadn't expected the safeguards to be tested so much so soon.  
  
Oh well. She had made Ellie pay dearly for her betrayal. Yes, and soon _he_ would have to pay even more, when her baby was ready. Yes, soon _he_ would not be able to hurt anyone else. But first, she had other matters to take care of. The rest of Ellie's punishment.  
  


* * *

It took some time before Edith and Deidre could locate Gregson. When they did, Deidre was surprised to see him wearing a suit of that reflective material that effectively hid DNA. She was even more surprised however at the fact that he was coming from Dr. Canton's office. As she hid behind a shrub with the older woman, she wondered if they should follow him.  
  
"Okay," Edith said softly once he was out of hearing range, "I'll keep following him, you go inside and see if you can tell what he was doing in there."  
  
Deidre nodded, and as Edith moved off after the retreating figure, walked up to the deserted building. It wasn't that late, but the office had been closed for two hours already. Not that there would be any problem getting inside. Fortunately she still had that handy DNA mask that she had...borrowed...from New Scotland Yard. Opening the door proved simple and she slipped inside.  
  
The interior of the clinic was dark, so she turned on her wrist light. She doubted there would be anything of interest in the waiting room, so she moved on to the examination room. Dr. Canton was a private physician and only the very rich could afford to come here, so he didn't need more than one room, since if anyone was truly ill they would be sent to the main hospital. To her disappointment the only thing turned up was a book that Tennyson had dropped the other day when he had been here. She quickly pocketed it after a quick debate over the wisdom of that move.  
  
She went next to the file room, where again she found nothing of interest. Everything seemed to be in perfect order. That wasn't to say that the guy couldn't have copied whatever it was he was looking for. However, it would have been difficult to keep things in such order if he had gone through anything in here. Those gloves were too thick to do anything as fine as making sure nothing was out of place.  
  
With a shrug she made her way to Dr. Canton's office. There were probably more sensitive files in there, and she was sure to find something. The door was again easy to open, but when she stepped inside, there was a strange smell in the air. A sort of sickly sweet smell. She reached for the wall switch to turn the lights on, and frowned when her fingers encountered something sticky and wet. She quickly flipped the switch and gasped at the splatters of red covering the wall.  
  
Against her will, her eyes followed the gory trail down the wall to the floor and across to the otherside of the room. Propped sitting up against the oak desk like a hideous Halloween puppet was Dr. Canton.  
  


* * *

Moriarty waited in the shadows outside the clinic, not really interested in what was going on except as an intellectual excercise. It was always good to know what your enemy did when not engaged in battle with you. He had been following the girl and woman since they had crossed in front of one of the many entrances to the Underground. Really he didn't know why he had. He was simply bored. When they had split up here, he had made the decision to stay, to see what the girl was doing.  
  
Now he was beginning to wonder if this had been a waste of his time. After all, there really was no indication that she was working for Holmes this time. Then, a muffled scream rent the air. He frowned and moved quickly towards the building where it had come from, after checking to make certain no one else had heard it. It wouldn't do to have somebody recognize him.  
  
After he let himself in the rediculously easy to break into door, he turned towards the area where the light was coming from. Moving swiftly, he reached what looked like the resident physician's office, and the source of the scream, as well as the cause.  
  
The scent hit him first, blood with a mixture of vomit, which the girl was still evicting now. He covered his mouth and nose with his handkerchief, then gazed quickly around the room. A bloody trail ranged from the wall beside the door to the opposite side of the room, where a man's corpse sat propped up against a desk. A jagged gash split the man's throat from ear to ear, with blood clotted around it. His abdomen had also been slashed from one side to the other, letting the intestines fall out.  
  
Moriarty ignored the girl who was still bent double by the wall, and walked over to the body. Rigor mortis had already set in, allowing the man's face to settle into a look of horror. He had most likely known he was going to die, the second before his throat was cut. A paint brush lay in the blood pooling around the corpse, the pattern of the bristles matched the pattern on the wall. Whoever had done this was trying to make a point.  
  
Muffled sobbing interruped his assesment of the situation, and he looked back at the girl. The sound of ion engines and sirens wailing in the distance distracted him. It would be a shame if she were arrested for this. The police would use force first and ask questions later. It wasn't really too hard of a decision. He grabbed her by the arm, ignoring her startled protests and gasp of recognition. He pulled her out of the clinic and out of sight of the approaching cruisers.  
  


* * *

Incredible. That was the only adjective that came to Lestrade's mind. The only word that even made it through her stunned mental processes. She had imagined kissing Holmes, both when she was younger, and even after he had been brought back to life. The sensations his lips caused was beyond anything even her fertile imagination could come up with. And this was just a kiss!  
  
She tilted her head to give him better access and leaned into him, eliciting a groan. Her hands, possessing a mind of their own ran up his chest, over his shoulders and buried themsleves in his hair. He shifted his stance so that she was pulled closer to him, and ran one hand down her back while the other pressed her head to his. Her knees, already weak, gave out. He broke off the kiss and lifted her into his arms, the look in his eyes promising things.  
  
An imperitive wail interrupted the passionate gaze, and he gently set her on the ground, his cheeks coloring with a blush. She wouldn't tease him about it though, since she was sure her own were just as bright. She walked over to the crib and lifted Jonathan out, after checking to see if he was wet or otherwise.  
  
"Time for supper hun?" She cooed softly to him. The baby answered with a whimper. "Yes...Holmes could you...thanks." The great detective had already anticipated her question and handed the bottle to her. She looked up from the baby to find his eyes still full of that promise. She smiled and walked over to the sofa with Jonathan and sat down to start feeding him. Holmes sat beside her and put his arm around her shoulders. It was a Kodak moment. Too bad it wouldn't last forever.  
  


* * *

How was that?  
  
  


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	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**  
  
Watson and Tennyson stood, and hovered, in the spot where Wiggins had said he had followed Gregson into a building. There was no building, only an empty lot covered in dirt and trash. Watson scanned the city records to find that this place had always been an empty lot that was owned by some mysterious person. He was willing to bet all his holochips that Moriarty was that person.  
  
Upon further examination of the site, they both found high levels of electrical activity, as well as the presence of certain chemicals used in the cloning process. That further proved his theory that Moriarty was behind this. Now, if they could just find a way to get inside that building Wiggins had been talking about...  
  
Almost as he thought it, the ground began to rumble, not so much that anyone would be alarmed by it. Watson quickly motioned for Tennyson to get out of sight and he did the same. The dirt packed ground in the lot split in the middle, a perfect seam. Then the two halves rose, revealing a large hole. Out of the hole, a small, one story house came up. Soon it looked as though it had been there the entire time.  
  
The compudroid and boy had to duck further in the shadows as Gregson came charging up the street, carrying something over his shoulder. As the rogue cop came closer, Watson was horrified to notice that it was Edith Presbury he was carrying. For a moment he thought she might be dead, but then she began to flail about.  
  
"Hold still," Gregson grunted, to no avail. He proceeded to carry her into the house. Tennyson and Watson immediately followed. Watson tried not think about what had happened to Deidre.  
  
They walked through the parlour and stopped just outside the living room when Gregson walked into it. A silloughette of a woman was thrown on the wall, but that was all they could see.  
  
"Well?" the woman asked, "Did you accomplish the mission?"  
  
"I did, Boss," Gregson stated, "But I was followed. By her."  
  
There was a sound of something thunking to the ground, and Watson surmised that Gregson had just dropped Edith. He was completely confused now. If he was calling this woman boss, then Moriarty most likely hadn't anything to do at all with this. Maybe this woman was a genetist herself, or she had someone in her employ.  
  
"Hmm," the woman said, "I see. You...are one of Inspector Lestrade's friends? It is good that she has at least one who believes in her. It is unfortunate for you, however. I can let nothing interefere you see? But...I don't think you should have to die. James, arrest her for being an accomplice, then have her crypnotized...."  
  


* * *

Lestrade stood up and carried Jonathan back to his crib, laying him lovingly inside. She touched his soft cheek and smiled, then looked back over at Holmes who was still sitting on the sofa. He was staring off into the distance, a thoughtful expression on his face. Suddenly he stood up and began to pace the room.  
  
"You said you were adopted, correct?" At her nod he continued, "And yet, the resemblance to the Lestrade family is remarkable, as I believe I have stated before. Did your mother have any relatives, besides your grandfather that is?"  
  
She frowned, and shook her head. "I think I know what you're getting at Holmes, but it won't wash. My grandfather and his daughter are the last of the line, and he died before I was even born. And, Elise could not have been my mother. I asked Professor Presbury to do a DNA scan, because I didn't believe at first that I was really adopted. He said that there was no way that Elise Lestrade could have been my mother."  
  
"He phrased it in exactly that manner?"  
  
She nodded again, then sighed. "Look Holmes, I really don't see what all this has to do with this case."  
  
"Ah, but it has everything to do with this case. _You_ were adopted out with this particular agency. _Your_ sister was murdered, and she was connected with this agency. _You_ were framed for her murder. I am not a large believer in coincidence, but even one who is could not miss the implications."  
  
She sighed again, this time in defeat. "Okay, so it has a lot to do with me. Why?"  
  
"That, Lestrade, is what I intend to find out. I believe I should have a word with Dr. Higgins. Just to make sure we're doing things properly, wouldn't you agree?"  
  
"Yeah." Nothing lasts forever, she thought wistfully. He was acting as though nothing had happened. She turned and walked towards the bedroom. She entered and then flopped down on the bed, ignoring the waving motion. For some reason, she was incredibly tired. More than she had ever been.  
  
She must have dozed off, because the next thing she knew, it was full dark outside. She frowned and sat up, rubbing her eyes. Voices drifted through the closed door of the bedroom, and she decided it would probably be a good idea to join her 'husband'.  
  
To her astonishment, the people who were seated on the sofa and one of the chairs were Wiggins, Derrick and... "Elaine?"  
  


* * *

Deidre stared at the ground while Moriarty tried to question her. Fat lot of good that would do. She wasn't going to tell him anything, even though she was pretty sure he had nothing to do with this baby ring scandal thing. He might try to get involved if he knew. After a while, he gave up and turned to the computer.  
  
Deidre looked around to see if that disgusting scientist, Fenwick, was anywhere around. Not that she really cared or anything, it just took her mind off that scene in Dr. Canton's office. She shivered. She had seen a lot of violence in her short life, but never anything as cruel and insane as that. Why had Gregson, and there was no doubt in her mind that it wasn't him, done that? What could have been the purpose?  
  
The News on Demand newscaster startled her from her thoughts.  
  
"Tonight we have a late-breaking story for you. Just hours ago, New Scotland Yard detectives found Dr. Joseph Canton murdered in his own office. More on Demand."  
  
"More," Moriarty drawled.  
  
The camera angle showed the clinic as it had been when she and Moriarty had made their escape. The flashing lights of the cruisers were almost blinding in their intensity. That was another question on her mind. Why had Moriarty dragged her out of there?  
  
"Dr. Joseph Canton," the newscaster was saying, "A prominant pediatrician was found in his office, brutally cut up. Police say they have no leads, but that it might have something to do with his eldest daughter, Beth Lestrade, who is also suspected of having murdered her sister.  
  
"Elaine Stanhope, Lestrade's siter and Canton's daughter was thought to have drowned accidentally when her boast crashed a few days ago. However, it was soon found out that there had been foul play."  
  
Suddenly the scene changed to show Chief Inspector Grayson walking out, a grim expression on his face. Reporters crowded around him, and he impatiently waved them away. "We've found some DNA that did not belong to Canton. When we have more information you will be told. Now, let me through!"  
  
The screen went black as the criminal mastermind turned it off, and faced Deidre with a crafty smile. "Well well well. The minute I leave the city, it becomes a mad house. Everything gets turned upside down. What would the world be without me?"  
  
"It was a pretty good place for two 'undred years!" She retorted.  
  
Moriarty winced, and then chuckled. "I can see why Holmes keeps you brats around. Now, tell me what is going on. Or I might just have to let slip to the police that you were _my_ accomplice when _I_ murdered Canton. It would do good for people's morale to be more frightened of me, don't you think?"  
  


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	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**  
  
**A/N:**Thanks again to all you wonderful reviewers! And to Jen, (and anyone else who wants to know) crypnotizing is the process by which New Scotland Yard scrambles criminals brains so that they won't have criminal tendencies anymore. It's a lot like the procedure where they cut out part of the brain...but a lot more humane, and the people can actually function...  
  
For more information on the 22nd Century, go to http://www.dnaco.net/~mobrien/holmes/ Maureen O'Brien has put together an extensive fansite, and if it weren't for her, I would have NO stories on the web at all.  
  
Wiggins swallowed nervously as he stood within the threshold of the rather large room Mister Holmes and Inspector Lestrade had been given, after first climbing through the bay window facing a balcony with a trellis that was incredibly simple to scamper up. Mr. and Mrs. Stanhope had followed at a slightly slower pace. Now they were facing the detective himself, who, for his part, looked astonished to see them there. Inspector Lestrade was nowhere around, at least not anywhere Wiggins could see.  
  
"You all have some explaining to do," Holmes said, his voice light, "However, that can of course wait until you've had some refreshment. An excellent job coming in through the balcony Wiggins. I did not even notice you until you were at the window. Let us hope no one else has."  
  
Wiggins beamed at the praise, and then winced at the slight rebuke. Oh well, you can't win them all. He mentally shrugged and walked over to the wet bar. There were several non-alcoholic drinks available. In fact, they were all non-alcoholic. Wiggins supposed the people here, even if they were dirty money grubbing thieves, really did care somewhat about the children they sold to the highest bidder.  
  
Once they had all settled themselves, Wiggins and the Stanhopes told Holmes the entire story, from Mrs. Stanhope's escape to the decision for the group to split up. The detective listened intently and politely, not interrupting. When the tale was done, he stood up and began pacing the room.  
  
"There are few points that need clarification. Mrs. Stanhope, you said somebody came up to you, as though they knew what you were feeling." At her nod, a grim smile crossed his features. "It is just as I thought. Now, Wiggins, can you tell me anything more at all about this woman of whom you overheard? A peculiar accent perhaps?"  
  
"No Mister Holmes," Wiggins answered, "She sounded just like all the other English people I've heard. Well, the well-educated upperclass other English people anyway."  
  
"And that is a point not to be overlooked my boy. It tells us that she is one: well-educated, two: she was most likely born to and raised in a moderately well to do family in London---er New London that is. And it is one more point in my favor..." He abruptly trailed off and looked towards the bedroom area.  
  
Wiggins and the Stanhopes automatically turned to look as well. Inspector Lestrade was standing just outside the door, her wig's red hair in disarray. She looked at Wiggins first, then at Mr. Stanhope and then at Mrs. Stanhope.  
  
"Elaine?"  
  
"Beth!" Mrs. Stanhope jumped up and ran over to her sister, gripping her in a bear hug. The two women stood like that for a while before Lestrade pulled back.  
  
"Okay, what's going on?" Lestrade asked, a dangerous lilt to her voice. So, they told the story once more.  
  
When they had done, Lestrade looked down at the ground. "I don't understand why you couldn't have told me..."  
  
"Because, we didn't want you to have to deal with this...you were doing so good at the Yard," Mrs. Stanhope answered, "And, now I see that you didn't exactly have a choice."  
  
The inspector looked up at her sister suddenly and grinned. "I believe I have something of yours..." She turned around and walked over to the corner of the room where a crib was situated that Wiggins hadn't even noticed. She lifted something out of it and walked back over to them, handing the bundle to her sister. "I...I've been calling him Jonathan," she said softly, almost shyly.  
  
"That's a wonderful name...Jonathan..." The younger woman smiled as she looked up from the tiny form in her arms. Her husband grinned and put his arms around her.  
  
"Yes, Jonathan is a fine name for a sturdy lad like this."  
  
"Yes it is," Holmes agreed, "Now, I think I should go find Dr. Higgins. If you'll excuse me, I'm certain you all have quite a bit to catch up on." The man turned and walked from the room as he spoke.  
  
Wiggins happened to catch the look on Inspector Lestrade's face as she turned back to them from watching Mister Holmes leave. It was hidden so quickly, he was pretty sure he was mistaken, but it was almost like regret. Then, before any of them could react, she suddenly sat down on the floor clutching her head.  
  


* * *

It hadn't gone at all how he'd planned. He had known for quite some time that he was attracted to her, and he knew she felt some semblance of the same. However, he had certainly not wanted to take advantage of her while she was vulnerable. He had envisioned a more relaxed atmosphere, perhaps one day while they were simply talking--or arguing as the case might be. _I suppose there are simply some things that cannot be planned out._  
  
Holmes made his way towards Higgins office, promising himself he would have a chat with Lestrade when all this was over with. A certain anticipation filled him at the prospect, but right now there was business to be taken care of.  
  
As he reached the fern covered patio which led to the room converted to an office space, he noticed Marcus watering. The man looked up, saw Holmes and waved tentatively. Holmes waved back, then gestured for him to walk over. Marcus blinked twice and cautiously did so.  
  
"Is Dr. Higgins in?" he questioned the man as he reached him.  
  
"Yes. He just now got back but..."  
  
"Good," Holmes said, cutting the man off, "In about five minutes I want you to set that bush on fire accidentally. Make enough noise so that Higgins will come out, and keep him out until you see me walk out. Got it?"  
  
"Well yes but.."  
  
"Good." Holmes turned and walked inside the building.  
  
Higgins was sitting hunched over his desk, scrawling something out on paper rapidly. He looked up when Holmes cleared his throat, barely hiding his annoyance.  
  
"Yes Mister Johnson? Is there any problem with the baby?"  
  
"Well, not really. I just wanted to make sure we were doing things right, you know?"  
  
Higgins visibly relaxed, and then grinned. "You're doing fine. Don't worry, new parents are always like this. It's an experience you can't beat...." The grin slowly faded, and the man got a far off look to his eye. "No, you can't beat it...but you can miss out on it, because of stupidity." He looked Holmes straight in the eye. "I don't care how much you love your wife Mister Johnson. Make sure you know what she's doing at all times with that child...what the?"  
  
Right on cue, Marcus began yelling at the top of his lungs, a very panicked sound. Holmes winced to realize it was no act.  
  
Higgins jumped to his feet, and motioned for Holmes to stay. "Stay a bit longer...I....want to tell you something...and I think I can trust you." He ran out the door.  
  
Holmes frowned as he stood up and walked over to the filing cabinet. It was an easy manner to pick the lock and rifle through its contents. He wondered if Higgins would trust him as easily if he knew who he really was. Then he came across a hidden compartment in the cabinet.  
  
"Hello, what's this?" He pulled the top up and took out the contents. The first piece of paper was a birth certificate for one Serena Juliet Garret, daughter of Joshep Lestrade and Elizabeth Garret. The next few docments were child support payment stubs. There were also two degrees for genetic engineering, one bearing the name of Serena Garret, the other Martin Fenwick.  
  
One of the last documents was a marriage certificate for Garret and Fenwick. Holmes really did not want to consider the implications of that, so he looked at the final documents. Fake licenses, all made out with the name John Higgins.  
  


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	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**  
  
Watson gasped and stared in horror at the room, before he registered Tennyson tugging on his cape. He looked at the boy who was gesturing towards the door. He nodded reluctantly. There wasn't anything they could do without giving away their own position in this thing, as well as Holmes'. So, he and Tennyson quickly left the building.  
  
After he was reasonably certain they had not been followed, Watson turned to the boy. "I suggest we take a more circuitous route back to 221b. Just to make certain that anyone following us will think we are simply out on a walk."  
  
Tennyson instantly agreed, and pointed out that they could walk past Dr. Canton's office. He had dropped a book there earlier, and the man always worked late into the evening.  
  
"All right then, let us go."  
  


*******************

  
  
The sight which met their eyes at the clinic was an incredibly chaotic scene. There were cruisers and forensics teams rushing about without any semblance of order at all.  
  
Watson walked over to the nearest constable and tapped him on the shoulder. The man started to tell him to scram but stopped when he recognized him. His face grim, he answered, "Dr. Canton has been murdered. The press thinks it was Lestrade. But the chief has found other evidence. You'll have to talk with him. He's over there." The constable pointed over by the door of the clinic.  
  
Watson nodded. "Thank you my good man."  
  
He motioned for Tennyson to follow, and walked over to Greyson. "Sir, if I could just..."  
  
"I said no more questions!" Greyson yelled, before turning around and seeing Watson. "Oh, it's you. Well, has Holmes found Lestrade? If she's with him...."  
  
"Er...yes...as far as I know..but he's having a problem bringing her back..."  
  
The chief inspector seemed to sag with relief. "Good. Then this can't be pinned on her. It can however, be pinned on one Professor James Moriarty. We found his DNA all over the murder scene. However," the man paused, seeming to have a difficult time speaking, "he's got a hostage. I haven't...notified her parents yet...can't seem to find any...but..."  
  
Tennyson quickly asked who she was.  
  
"Eh?"  
  
Watson dutifully translated.  
  
"Her name is Deidre O'Halloran, and like I said, we can't find where her parents are..."  
  
"That is because she has none," Watson put in, his voice sounding grim. Moriarty had gone too far this time. It was just as he had thought--the criminal mastermind was behind the whole thing. "I...think Tennyson and I will go now..."  
  
He quickly turned and walked away before the emotion could get the best of him.  
  


*********************

  
  
Back at 221b, he and Tennyson paused a moment. _What am I going to tell Holmes,_ the robot asked himelf miserably, _it is my fault she went off by herself..._ He ducked his head slightly, then allowing Tennyson to go before him, walked inside the flat.  
  
"Well it's about time," a familiar voice drawled out.  
  
Watson turned to face Moriarty who was sitting in Holmes' customary chair. Sitting on the sofa, was Deidre, looking apologetic. She instantly jumped up and ran over to them, giving both a hug.  
  
"It's not what you think," the girl stated, before Watson had a chance to call Greyson, "Moriarty didn't do it." Her nose wrinkled, "Though he could care less that anybody thinks he did. It was Gregson. Me and Edith followed him to the clinic. Moriarty was just there. Anyway..."  
  
"Slow down Deidre," Watson commanded. Moriarty still sat in the chair, a smug expression on his face.  
  
The girl did, then explained everything that had happened from the time she and Miss Presbury had split from the rest. "And, I 'ave no idea where she is now...I figured she would have come back to you guys..."  
  
"Well..." Watson began, "she was not able to. Gregson caught her following him, and now they are sending her to be crypnotized."  
  
"And that is where I come in," Moriarty spoke up, "I can get her out of prison before they take her to the crypnosis chamber. However, there is one condition..."  
  
"Of course there is," Watson rejoined, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.  
  
"Oh, it isn't that hard. Just tell me everything that you know about this case...I would hate to have to put myself on the line anymore than I have already for something I only have a vague idea about. And just remember," the smug smile grew, "you need my help. I do not need you."  
  
Watson looked at Deidre and Tennyson. They looked at each other and then back at him and nodded. He sighed with resignation and turned back to Moriarty. "I suppose we have no choice."  
  


* * *

_Interlude_

  
  
She frowned as she watched James leave with the woman. Not because of the decision she'd made--no that had left her mind as soon as it was taken care of. She was worried that that detective, Sherlock Holmes, had not brought Beth home. Something was wrong. Certainly the man was imperfect, but he was--like herself and Martin--good at what he did in spite of those imperfections.  
  
She had the sudden feeling that she needed to be back at the base. Leaving a quick message for James, she closed up and packed her bags.  
  


* * *

Lestrade clutched at her head, groaning as the pain intensified. It abruptly disappeared and she was left feeling boneless. She lay her head against the sofa and let the rest of her body sag. Her eyes were still closed, and she slowly opened them to find the room and its inhabitants extremely blurry. She blinked rapidly to clear her vision, but that only seemed to make it worse.  
  
"Inspector," Wiggins' voice came floating through the fog filled recesses of her mind. Why did he sound so far away when he was right there? "Inspector...are you okay?"  
  
She shook her head--or tried to anyway. Of course she wasn't okay. She was going blind and deaf, and who knew what else was wrong with her. She tried to talk, to tell him to get Holmes. Holmes could make it all better. He always did. But her mouth wasn't cooperating either. It wouldn't even open. Instead, a small whimper built up in the back of her throat.  
  
And then there were the voices. They were talking to her, telling her they hated her. That everybody hated her. Hadn't it been proven? Then, they came to get her, those voices. She tried to scream, to run away, but her body wouldn't work. The whimper continued to build as the voices lifted her up and carried her away. Holmes. Where was Holmes? He could make them stop. "HOLMES!"  
  
She had done it. She had called out to him. She relaxed, and allowed herself to fall asleep, knowing he would come to save her.  
  


* * *

Holmes hurriedly placed the files back exactly as he found them, and was just about to walk out the door when Higgins walked back in, followed closely by Marcus. Higgins impatiently waved the young man away. While the doctor wasn't looking, Holmes nodded, and Marcus left, looking relieved.  
  
"Sorry it took so long," Higgins said, "But that idiot set a bush on fire. It is so hard to find good help these days you know?" The man's lips suddenly curved into a grin. "I think I will have to try harder not to be an idiot for my....boss."  
  
"Uh huh. You uh...you said you had something to tell me?"  
  
Higgins nodded, seeming eager to get whatever it was off of his chest. "Yes. Twenty five years ago, I was in a genetics class with a young woman. We were partners. We were the best in the class at what we did. Please, hold your questions until I'm done...I...don't know if I can get through it otherwise. I've told noone else. Not even my master. Anyway, our professor, a man by the name of Kristov Vansky decided to allow us to participate in an experiment. However, he said that we would have to split up to do so. To cut a long story short, he raped the young woman, and she became pregnant. We left the university with our degrees, after threatening a law suit.  
  
"Ha! As if mere money could change what was done, or turn back time. Serena was a lovely woman with a wonderfully sweet personality, despite the fact that she was illegitimate. However, she had been changed emotionally by the deed. She withdrew into a shell that she only let me into. We got married, and I promised her I would accept the child as my own. She seemed happy.  
  
"Two months later, Vansky came back in a drunken rage while I was working on an experiment. He beat Serena, and knocked over several sensitive chemicals that caused an explosion. Serena had got out alive and unscathed, though the beating had killed the unborn child. I however, came away with this," he pulled off an elastomask, revealing the twisted features Holmes had become used to seeing on Fenwick, and a voice synthesizor.  
  
"Not pretty eh," Fenwick continued in his normal French accent, "Serena didn't care. And neither did I. However, her already unstable emotional state became completely unbalanced by the loss of her baby. She began to obsess about perfection, saying that she and I and everyone else were imperfect.  
  
"Two years later, she and I had created a child through genetic engineering. The perfect human being. At least physically. She had the best of both our genes. We didn't know if some of the modifications would work but...that did not matter. At least not to me. It did to Serena though, as I soon found out when she said she had given our baby away, so as to test the experiment. She explained how much better off she would be there. How much she would grow and learn. Until the day when she could destroy the man who had caused her parents so much pain.  
  
"I...agreed with her, and began experimenting with illegal cloning to make us money to get by. Sometime during that, I found that Serena had left me. I tried to locate her by following her trail. But the only thing I found was a cave containing a veritable gold mine of DNA. The perfectly preserved body of Professor James Moriarty. For something to take my mind off of Serena and my baby, I began to try and clone him. The first few times failed miserably, and I could not figure out why. Then, two years ago, I finally figured out what went wrong. And the same thing would go wrong with my child if I didn't find her soon.  
  
"The chromosomes would begin to unravel inside the cell before mitosis was taking place, and would burst the nucleus, then the cell itself, instantly killing it. In the clones, this would happen simultaneously as soon as I tried to give it life. In my daughter, it would not happen for several years, according to my calculations. I tried to locate Serena, and when I did, she did not allow me any chance at talk, or to explain what might happen, but immediately involved me in this baby stealing plot." Fenwick stopped there and looked relieved to have finally told his story.  
  
Holmes looked at him a bit suspiciously, though it was only an act on his part as something Charles Johnson would do. He had most of the story, now all he had to do was find out why Serena would want to frame her own daughter. "And why, Dr. Higgins, are you telling me this?"  
  
Fenwick smiled and opened his mouth to respond. A feminine voice interrupted.  
  
"Because, Mister Johnson, you are a neutral person. You do not know him or anything. And, according to him, your wife is a basket case. Like me. He doesn't want anything bad to happen to you. Oh Marty," she said, her voice changing, "I already figured that thing out. I have the solution too...but I was going to make her forget the bad things that have happened to her. Now, Holmes is off somewhere keeping her from me."  
  
"HOLMES!"  
  
Holmes ignored the other two when he heard Lestrade scream. He had never heard anything like that in her voice before. He jumped up and ran towards the room they had been staying at.  
  


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	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**  
  
Moriarty smiled as he stared at the unconscious form of Gregson on the ground, then back up at the woman who was gazing at him with a mixture of relief and disgust. They weren't anywhere near the Yard as Gregson had decided to take matters into his own hands and rid his boss of a possible threat. How good of the man to use the same weapon he had used on Canton.  
  
Chief Inspector Greyson was also standing somewhere nearby, trying to figure out exactly what was going on. He had come up just as Gregson was telling Miss Presbury the entire story, including the fact that he was charged with protecting Beth from people like her. The Inspector certainly knew how to get herself in trouble. Now, he needed to get Fenwick before he did anything foolish. And who knew, perhaps he could even find a way to exploit Lestrade's condition for his own purposes.  
  
"As charming as I've found your company Miss Presbury, Chief Inspector, I find I really must be going." Before either could react, he tossed out a gas pellet and walked off before it had cleared.  
  


* * *

Wiggins stared at the Inspector as she lay on the bed. Earlier she had seemed like she wanted to fight whatever was happening to her, but couldn't. Then she'd called out for Mister Holmes and the fight had gone out of her. He glanced over at Mr. and Mrs. Stanhope who were at either side of the bed looking down.  
  
The door suddenly burst open and Mister Holmes ran in, his face creased in worry lines. He stopped when he saw Inspector Lestrade and his lips compressed into a grim line.  
  
Two other people followed Holmes. One was a woman who looked a little like the inspector, but older and....crazier. The other was Fenwick. Wiggins frowned and tried to say something but Holmes had already turned to the other two.  
  
"Is it too late?"  
  
"N..no," Fenwick said, staring at the inspector with an oddly tender expression, "No I can fix it now."  
  
"NO!" The woman screamed, "No, you cannot touch her! I forbid it!" She leaped in between Holmes and the Inspector, brandishing a wicked looking laser weapon. "You," she pointed at Holmes, "You have destroyed perfection. You kept her from me. You knew...you knew she would die. You hoped she would. But I won't let you kill her. James will be here soon. I know he will. We'll take her back and make her forget about all this."  
  
"Well, my name is James but I do not think I'm the one you mean," a new voice rang out from the window. Wiggins' eyes widened as he stared at Moriarty. What was going on?  
  
A loud thunk brought his attention back to the scene unfolding. Mr. Stanhope was laying on the floor unconscious and Mrs. Stanhope was kneeling over him. He must have tried to sneak up on the crazy woman. That woman's eyes flitted to Moriarty. "Who are you?"  
  
"Oh, I'm called many things. Clonehead is the most recent that I've recieved. Your lovely daughter gave it to me. However, most people simply call me Moriarty." The man gave a sweeping bow.  
  
"You think she's lovely?" the woman asked, "Where is James?"  
  
Moriarty closed his eyes as if in pain. "I fear he has betrayed you."  
  
All the while the two were engaged in conversation, Fenwick and Holmes had been moving steadily closer to the woman and inspector. However, whatever hold Moriarty had gained over the woman's interest broke and she leveled the laser at them again.  
  
"Nice try. James would never betray me. You set him up."  
  
"Serena," Fenwick said, a measure of panic coming into his voice, "She will die if you do not let me help her soon."  
  
"Don't worry Marty, James will be here."  
  
"No, he won't," Moriarty rejoined fiercely, "Because he is on his way to the moon as we speak."  
  
Serena's eyes widened and she shook her head. She jerked her head towards Fenwick. "Save her. Save our daughter Marty." She continued to point the laser at Holmes.  
  
Fenwick pulled some sort of flask from his pocket along with a syringe. He stuck the needle in the bottle's top then pulled it out and injected whatever substance was in it into Lestrade. "Now, we wait. It may already be too late...feeling better Yardie?"  
  


* * *

The voices were coming back. There were more of them, louder, more insistent. And then she heard Holmes'. She struggled to get to him, but the others wouldn't let her. They didn't like him. He was trying to take her from them. Then the voices faded and she found herself looking up at a sight that really shouldn't be seen upon first waking.  
  
"Feeling better Yardie?" Fenwick asked, his twisted features looking relieved.  
  
She snorted and pushed him away, astonished at her strength. She remembered not being able to move at all. Confusion etched into her features, she sat up and looked around at the motely bunch gathered. Her sister and brother-in-law were on the floor--Derrick was unconscious. Moriarty was standing beside Wiggins at the foot of the bed, and Holmes was being held at gunpoint by some woman. Boy the things she missed when she fell asleep.  
  
"Lestrade?" Holmes asked, his voice full of concern.  
  
"I'm fine," she told him, "Confused as hell, but perfectly fine otherwise."  
  
"Elizabeth, you live. No thanks to this man. Now Mister Holmes, I must keep you from doing her harm ever again." The woman lifted the weapon and pulled the trigger. Lestrade was already in front of Holmes, pushing him out of the way. She felt a searing pain along her arm, and then all went black. _Oh zed. Not again._  
  


* * *

Holmes watched the events unfold as if in slow motion. Lestrade was hit by the laser as she pushed him out of the way and now lay on top of him. The rest of the room broke out into utter chaos as Greyson arrived with Deidre, Tennyson, Watson, Edith Presbury, and about six constables in tow.  
  
A scream of agony jerked everyone's attention to Garret, as she stared at her daughter with horror. Then she lifted the weapon to her temple, murmering an apology to Beth and Marty before pulling the trigger. Holmes winced and closed his eyes, even as he heard the others' gasps. Then, he turned himself around, gently lifting Lestrade. He felt for a pulse. After all that she just couldn't be dead. He found one, going strong. She must have passed out from the pain. The burn on her arm was gastly.  
  
"All right, now what's going on here?" Greyson's pompous voice called, "And stop looking like that Anderson. You've seen worse. Go on, get the med team in here. Hurry. Zed. Holmes you okay? Good. What about you three? Good. Lestrade? Oh I see. Well the med team's coming. Zed it! What's taking them so long?"  
  
"That is of course, our cue to leave," Moriarty stated suddenly, though he had a triumphant smile on his face, "Come along Fenwick..."  
  
The twisted man looked at his daughter one last time before nodding. Then he and Moriarty disappeared out the window before Greyson realized what had happened.  
  
Holmes smiled. Obviously Moriarty didn't know Lestrade as well as he thought he did. She wouldn't let something like the fact that Fenwick was her father stand in the way of justice. Oh well, it should provide for some interesting entertainment in the future.  
  
He looked down at her face, peaceful in repose. Yes, he definitely would have to have a little chat with her when this was all over. After all, it wasn't everyday he blew his cover just because some woman called.  
  


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	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**  
  
Lestrade closed her eyes as she laid back on the pillow of the hospital bed. After six hours of extensive tests, she was exhausted, and the doctors said she couldn't leave for at least another day. Which was fine by her. She needed the time away from familiar faces and places to think about what had happened.  
  
Earlier, when she had first woken, Holmes had explained everything that had happened after she passed out. She had been relieved in a way to hear that Canton was dead, but no matter how bad a person's crime was, nobody deserved that kind of death. Neither did Serena Garret deserve what she had recieved. The woman hadn't been in her right mind.  
  
Elaine and Derrick had dropped by with Jonathan just after Holmes left. They sat and talked and cooed over the baby for an hour or more, before the doctors had descended. Over many protests by Lestrade, the three had gone and she was left to the devices of the doctors.  
  
Oddly enough, the fact that Fenwick was her father didn't really bother her. She supposed it would hit her harder later, when it didn't seem like a part of the rather foggy dream-like state she'd been in. And of course Moriarty would certainly try to exploit on that relationship. Too bad for him that she believed family should look out for family, even if it meant sending them to jail for their own good. The thing that bothered her the most was how she was going to forget that one intimate moment, when the world stood still.  
  
As she continued to lay with her eyes closed she came to a decision. She wasn't going to forget. She knew Holmes had felt something too, or he wouldn't have instigated it. Her lips curved into a satisfied smile as she thought up a plan, then promptly fell asleep.  
  


* * *

Holmes walked into the room where he knew Lestrade was at. Striding over to her side, he set the vase of flowers he'd been carrying on the bedside table. The Irregulars had all pitched in together to get them, and they were a mixture of carnations, daisies, daffodils and roses. "A colorful bunch for a colorful person," Deidre had said with a grin.  
  
He looked down at Lestrade's face for a long while before he reached out and took a lock of her hair, tickling her nose with it. It succeeded, as it had before, and he had to jump back to avoid a fist in the face. He chuckled.  
  
"Touchy, aren't we?"  
  
"No, I just don't like having my nose tickled," she grumbled, "It reminds me too much of the pranks Alice and Edith used to play on me when we were in college. Have you ever woken up to whipped cream smeared across your face and up your nose?"  
  
Holmes shook his head, "No, I can't say that I have."  
  
"It's not a comfortable position, believe me."  
  
"I shall certainly take your word for it." He paused a moment, to collect himself, then stalled again. This was certainly harder than he would have thought. "The uh, Irregulars bought you some flowers. I brought them." He moved aside so she could see them.  
  
"How sweet. Daffodils are my favorites. Yellow is such a cheerful color."  
  
He nodded and swallowed. "Lestrade, I have been thinking. You and I are rather well suited for each other don't you agree?"  
  
He kept his eyes on her, and watched as her eyes widened and then as her lips curved upwards, then down again. "Yes, I do agree, and you've just ruined all my wonderful plans."  
  
His eyebrow jerked upwards. "Plans?"  
  
She nodded and sat up. "Yes, my plans." She raised herself on her knees and put her hands on his shoulders. It was only natural of course that he should place his own arms about her waist and pull her to him.  
  


* * *

Chief Inspector Greyson made his way to Lestrade's hospital room. He wasn't a sentimental man, but he did care about his officers, and this one in particular. He was a bit skeptical when it came to doctors and that dead detective. They all said she would be fine, but he needed to see for himself. _But just because I need her back at her post as soon as possible, that's all._.  
  
He opened the door to the room and walked inside, then turned around and walked back out. She certainly appeared to be just fine.  
  


**The End!**

  
  


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